


a king of infinite space

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [71]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Bondage, Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Healing Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pornalot, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, remix eligible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: When they bring Arthur home, he is silent.Written for Pornalot 2017 Challenge #4 (Bound).





	a king of infinite space

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** Mentions of potential non-con, deals with the aftermath of torture.
> 
> Also, this is my 100th posting on AO3. Here's to another 100 more! \o/

 

When they bring Arthur home, he is silent.

There are injuries. Bruises on his wrists, scars. Old blood in the shadows under his eyes.

Merlin isn’t too worried by those: he knows better than anyone that the body can heal, even when the mind almost wishes it wouldn’t. More worrying is the way that Arthur broods, staring out of his window for hours and saying nothing about his ordeal.

More worrying are the dreams.

Merlin is the one to wake him, more often than not. When Arthur disappeared – was taken – he’d slept in the antechamber every night, and now that Arthur is back not even the assembled might of the Sidhe could tear Merlin from his side. He knows that Arthur has nightmares. Knows, too, that when he wakes his first thought is to move, just to ensure that he can.

There are things Arthur is holding back, characteristic and uncompromising, but apparently he has no intention of giving in to fear.

“This is a terrible idea.”

“It’s also an order, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur says, his gaze steely. He has the ropes already knotted around his wrists, wrapped over soft cloths to prevent them from chafing. He’s clearly been thinking about this for a while.

“Arthur…”

“Do it,” Arthur commands.

Biting his tongue, Merlin ties the ropes securely to the bedposts, until Arthur sits spreadeagled and defenceless in the centre of the bed. His breath is coming fast, his arms taut against the bindings, and Merlin’s heart twists.

“Arthur, I don’t think– you know you don't have to do this.”

“Shut _up_ , Merlin.”

He’s gritting his teeth, as if bracing himself will do any good. It’s so like Arthur that Merlin can’t keep from smiling, helpless, as he realises perhaps he has been wrong. He still thinks this is a ridiculous idea, but he knows Arthur. The prince is never going to rest until he has overcome everything fate throws at him, and maybe that’s exactly what he needs.

“This isn’t going to work,” Merlin says, toeing off his boots and clambering onto the bed. Arthur looks at him askance, and Merlin kneels in front of him, trying to nerve himself up for what he’s about to do. “If you just sit there like that, you’re going to keep dwelling on what happened. You need,” he licks his lips, “a distraction.”

Arthur’s eyes darken. “A distraction.”

Merlin nods. “Something to help you relax.”

There’s a pause. Merlin waits, heart pounding, as Arthur thinks it over. Gaius had assured him that there’d been no sign of any– _other_ abuses when he examined the prince, but if Arthur had somehow concealed it, if there’s something behind his silence other than guilt and fear…

“Go on, then.”

Blowing out his breath, Merlin crawls into Arthur’s lap and straddles him. Arthur tips back his head to meet him with a kiss, and Merlin lets out a desperate sound. He hadn’t known how much he’d missed this, missed _Arthur_ until now. He licks into Arthur’s mouth, pressing him back against the headboard, and feels a surge of triumph when Arthur responds in kind, rolling his hips so that Merlin can feel his thickening cock through the fabric of his shift.

“Touch me,” Arthur breathes, and Merlin complies.

As always, Arthur fits perfectly into his hand, hot and full and flushed to the tip. Merlin coaxes him gently with his fingers, using the oil from the nightstand to stroke him long and slow. Usually, when they do this, Arthur is too impatient to allow much caressing, too concerned with appearances to submit to foreplay, and Merlin seizes the chance to take his time, working his golden king into a writhing, gasping mess without interference. Arthur is beautiful like this, so vital and responsive under Merlin’s hands, and for the first time Merlin allows himself to feel what it was like in those long, frozen, Arthur-less days, not knowing whether the prince was dead or alive.

They had come so, so close to never getting him back.

Shuddering, Merlin sucks kisses into Arthur’s neck, new bruises covering the old, and laves his tongue over Arthur’s scars: the new ones where the skin is still tight and sensitive; the old ones, now mostly faded.

“Maybe I should just leave you here,” he muses eventually, sitting back to admire his handiwork. Arthur looks utterly debauched, chest heaving, his straining erection on prominent display. “You’d make a fetching centrepiece.”

“You do, and I swear you’ll be in the stocks till doomsday,” Arthur threatens, glowering at him.

“Big words for a man who can’t even get out of bed.” But Merlin shuffles closer anyway. He can feel Arthur’s sudden tension, like he’d forgotten he was tied up, but as soon as Merlin’s lips close around the head of his cock he loses all inhibition, fucking up into Merlin’s mouth with a startled sound. His arms strain against his bonds, but this time he's not trying to get away, and Merlin braces himself against Arthur's thighs, teasing him with lips and tongue until Arthur is sweat-slick and shuddering on the bed, his fingers wrapped around the ropes as he comes spectacularly down Merlin' throat. 

“Fuck– Mer– untie me,” Arthur growls, and Merlin undoes the restraints with a flick of his wrist, suddenly worried he might have gone too far. Fortunately, Arthur doesn’t seem to notice the magic, flipping them over in an instant and pinning Merlin to the bed with the weight of his body. His arse grinds punishingly against Merlin’s swollen prick.

“Fuck, I wanted you,” he mutters, his voice rough and somehow wrecked in the confession. “I’ve never– all I could think about was how much I wanted you with me and how glad I was that you weren’t there.”

“Arthur.” Merlin’s breath hitches.

“I kept waiting for you to find me.” Arthur’s mouth, hot and wet against his own, kissing the taste of himself from Merlin’s lips. “Knew you’d come bursting in like a fool, free me with your magic– ”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin groans again, shock and fear mingling with the guilt as Arthur, ever the opportunist, chooses that moment to slip a hand into Merlin’s breeches.

“Merlin.” And this time, Arthur is smiling, no longer silent, something whole and real behind his eyes. “You reckless little idiot. You tore apart an entire castle to get to me – did you really believe I wouldn't know that it was you?”


End file.
